home. Since it’s nine o’clock in Wisconsin, my mind would ordinarily start imagining her out to dinner with Brett Favre or some other member of the Wisconsin jet set. The truth is that right now my mind is so preoccupied that I don’t even have the time or energy for petty, ridiculous jealousies. This situation is screwing up my priorities.
My most reliable mind-clearing technique has always been to take Tara for a long walk. It somehow feels like getting down to basics. She is in complete touch with her world; the way she sees and smells everything… the way her ears perk up at any unusual sound… it somehow encourages me to trust my own instincts the way she trusts hers.
It’s a little more difficult tonight, since I’m walking both Tara and the maniac known as Waggy. He is positively crazed with excitement by this walk, though we’ve pretty much followed the same route every day since he’s been here.
I am taking very seriously Kevin’s comments about that day at the house. If Steven planted the explosives, or caused them to be planted, then he is obviously a cold-blooded murderer. And because he saw me outside the house, and knew I was going in, then he was fully content to be a cold-blooded murderer of me.
But I was basically a stranger to him, and it seems silly to feel he is entitled to a vigorous defense if charged with killing his father and stepmother, but not for the attempted murder of an unwitting bystander. On the other hand, I keep coming back to the fact that the unwitting bystander was me.
I cut the walk a little short, not because I am seeing things with total clarity, but because my arms ache from trying to restrain Waggy. We get home, and I pour myself a glass of wine.
Laurie calls me back and is as supportive as she can be, while we both understand that the decision is both personal and mine. I think about it some more, and then decide to discuss it with Waggy, who is sleeping next to Tara on the end of the bed.
I’m nuts to do anything to wake up Waggy; I could be opening myself up for another session of his running around the house like an Olympic hurdler. But I say, “Wag, old buddy, here’s the situation. I’m going to try to help your friend Steven. If we win, you live with him. If we lose, you stay here. Either way you’ll be fine.”
He just looks at me, gives a little wag of his tail, and lays his head on Tara’s back.
I take this as a sign that he approves of the plan.
I PICK KEVIN UP AT THE LAW-DROMAT at eight AM.
His car is being repaired, and we’re going down to the jail for an early-morning meeting with Steven. Though from our point of view the meeting could wait until later in the day, we will be there early for his sake. If he’s like every other client I’ve had in this predicament, he is scared out of his mind and needs to see a friendly face. Someone on his side.
When I arrive, there are about five customers sitting around, waiting for an interruption in the whirring sounds of the washers and dryers that means their clothes are done.
Kevin is in intense conversation with a woman, maybe seventy years old, who is sitting but still leans against a small cart that she would use to transport her laundry. He waves to me and says that he’ll just be a couple of minutes.
I sit down about ten feet away and see that they have papers spread out on the chair between them. I am close enough to hear them talking, which is of little benefit because they are speaking Spanish. I had no idea Kevin could speak Spanish, and certainly not as fluently as it appears. It’s disorienting; I feel like I’m watching a dubbed movie.
They talk for ten more minutes, interrupted only by the woman getting up to put more quarters in her dryer. Finally they finish, and the woman gathers up her papers before retrieving her clothes.
Once Kevin and I are in the car, I say, “I didn’t even know you could speak Spanish.”
“I had to learn, because for so many of my clients it’s a first language.”
“Clients? I thought you give legal advice for free down there.”
“I do, but I still consider them clients. I’m representing that woman on a probate matter. Her